


In Life, As In Love

by TheFlailing



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, I'll add tags as the chpaters go up, I'm finally getting the hang of this tagging business!, Inktober 2016, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-01
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-08-18 20:17:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 12,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8174686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheFlailing/pseuds/TheFlailing
Summary: The life and love between one Steven Grant Rogers and James "Bucky" Buchanan Barnes, as it unfolds over the years.





	1. Fast

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all!  
> So, it's October, and I've seen a lot of promotion for the Inktober challenge, where artists are encouraged to draw one picture every day for the entire month. I think the idea of a daily challenge is great, and I've always wanted to participate in one of these things. However, the writing challenge NaNoWriMo is wayyy too difficult for me, so I thought I'd co-opt the Inktober challenge and tweak it for writing (I mean, wiring requires ink, so it counts, right? XP) to make: FICTOBER! (disclaimer: I did not come up with the term Fictober)
> 
> I've adopted the official [ Inktober ](http://mrjakeparker.tumblr.com/post/150789259422/inktober-is-just-over-a-week-away-are-you-ready) [Prompt List ](http://inktoberincentive.tumblr.com/post/151125917077/the-official-list-by-inktober-creator)to use for my own challenge, except instead of inking a picture every day, I'll be writing and posting a 500-600 word chapter. I like this length cause it's short enough to be doable every day, and it's also a sort of an exercise in maximizing my words, since I find that my fics can sometimes tend to be long-winded and overly-wordy. There are so many aspects of this that will be challenging and force me to grow as a writer in many ways, and so I'm super excited to do this!
> 
> Please join me on this short but surely exciting adventure! I hope you enjoy! =D

“Hey! Watch it!”

Bucky barely had the time to yell “Sorry!” over his shoulder as he ran, jostling people as he went. He didn’t care if he looked like a madman, and he didn’t care if people thought he was crazy – he _needed_ to get back to the coffeehouse before it closed! Glancing at his watch – and almost bowling over someone carrying grocery bags in both hands as a result – told him that he had precisely three and a half minutes, and that was three and a half minutes too late! Their flight to Vegas was scheduled to depart tonight, and Bucky didn’t want to think about what he’d do if he didn’t make it in time.

Taking the corner sharply, his pea coat flapping wildly behind him, Bucky could see the ornate sign for Thunder and Lightning’s Coffee and Teashop at the end of the block. Bucky ran as fast as he could, the wind stinging in his eyes. He’d been almost halfway home when Bucky had put his hands into his pockets; the realization upon finding them empty had caused instant panic.

Sprinting the final few steps to the door, Bucky turned the doorknob and almost collapsed with relief to find it still open. Standing in the doorway, panting like he’d just run a marathon, Bucky was starting to feel very hot underneath his sweater, despite the cool, crisp, early October evening air. Swiping the beanie from his head and wiping the beads of sweat from his face, Bucky’s eyes scanned across the shop.

The coffee and tea house was small, tucked away in a tiny corner of Brooklyn – it was one of his favourite places to spend a relaxing afternoon with a book or a friend. A peculiar collection of old, well-loved sofas and chairs were arranged haphazardly around ornate, antique looking tables. Several patrons still loitered, sipping the last dregs of their elixirs and enjoying the warmth from the heater before having to leave its warm embrace.

“Bucky?” The deep, earthy voice that spoke belonged to a tall, muscular man. He was wearing a pair of old, worn jeans, a stained blue apron, and a soft flannel, rolled up to the elbows, and in his hands was a broom and dustpan.

“Thor, thank god you’re still open!” Bucky said, rushing towards the man.

Thor frowned, his brows drawing together. “What’s the matter? Are you alright? You’re out of breath; come, take a seat.”

“No, that’s okay,” Bucky said, shaking his head. “I just – I was here an hour ago and I swear to god I had it in my pocket and when I paid for my coffee but I was on the way home and it wasn’t there and I’m praying to god that it somehow fell out of my pocket while I was here and not on the subway-”

“Slow down my friend,” Thor said, placing a large hand on Bucky’s shoulder. The contact grounded him, and Bucky didn’t even realize that he had been bouncing until Thor stopped him.

Bucky worried his bottom lip, trying not to panic – and yet he could feel the tears beginning to prickle at the corner of his eyes. He’d been planning this for years and now it could all be ruined and he would never forgive himself if–

“Is this, by any chance, what you are searching for?” Thor asked as he reached into his pocket to retrieve a small box.

Bucky almost cried, but this time with relief, upon recognizing the small leather ring box, with his grandmother and grandfather's wedding rings nestled inside. He couldn’t even find his voice, and instead nodded vigorously as the tears welled up in his eyes.

Thank god.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YAY FIRST DAY! This challenge is going to be super fun! =D


	2. Noisy

Bucky laughed, his smile wide and carefree as his feet skipped over the pavement. The sun was shining brightly overhead in a near cloudless sky, the heat of a New York summer’s afternoon making his thin shirt stick to his sweaty skin. Turning in place for a moment, one stationary body in a busy crowd, Bucky paused to enjoy the rush of adrenaline that could only come from a rollercoaster as the wind rushed through his hair, the feeling of bewildering weightlessness as his stomach rose into his chest.

“That was AMAZING!” Bucky laughed, still high on the rush. “Wasn’t it Steve?”

Bucky’s best friend looked wobbly on his thin legs, and it made Bucky chuckle.

“Did the cyclone give you jelly legs?” Bucky teased as he threw an arm around Steve’s thin, shoulders and tousled his soft, stray blonde hair. Steve had always been smaller than Bucky, but he was thirteen now and his momma said that Bucky was starting to hit puberty – early for a boy, if she was to be believed. Soon, maybe Steve would seem even smaller than he appeared now, which was pretty much impossible to imagine.

“Was okay,” Steve mumbled.

“Only okay?” said Bucky, almost incredulous. “It was incredible! Man, I love Coney Island.” Bucky’s parents often brought him here in the summertime, and now he wanted to show Steve. He’d been saving up his allowance all month so that they could spend the whole day enjoying the rides and eating treats. The sounds of the amusement park danced all around them – the cartoonish amusement ride music played, the chatter of the crowd, the shouts of vendors advertising their game or food item.

Bucky was thoroughly enjoying himself, and he hoped that Steve was too. Bucky had a whole list of things that he wanted to do today – things to see, rides to go on, food to eat – and they weren’t even halfway through it yet! There was still the cotton candy that came in four different colours, slushies in cups the size of a milk carton, fried doughnuts dusted with sugar and cinnamon – so many things!

“Whoa!” he said as Steve tripped and stumbled. Reflexively, Bucky reached out and caught the smaller boy, steadying him on his feet. Bucky looked over to see if Steve was okay, and found was a shaken look in his face that Bucky hadn’t noticed earlier.

“Stevie? You okay?” Bucky asked.

Steve swallowed thickly and closed his eyes; Bucky got the impression that he was trying very hard to keep himself together, and that worried him even more. “It’s... too noisy, and I-” Steve said, breaking off to inhale sharply.

Crap!

Crap, crap, crap! Bucky realized that the noise and the people must be making Steve’s anxiety act up. All previous thoughts of food and roller coasters were instantly replaced by a small panic. He needed to find somewhere quiet where Steve could calm down – the last thing Bucky wanted was to be the cause of a panic attack.

“Crap! Steve, I’m so sorry – here, come this way,” Bucky said, taking Steve by the hand and leading him towards the boardwalk. Using his bony arms, Bucky elbowed their way through the masses and onto the beach. There were still a lot of people, but it was less crowded and less noisy.

Bucky pulled Steve all the way to the edge of the water, and then turned to face him. “It’s okay, Steve, you’re gonna be okay; deep breaths,” Bucky said, his hands on Steve's shoulders.

Steve, his eyes still closed, did as Bucky asked. Slowly, the tension began to ebb away with each exhale.

“Thanks,” Steve said with a watery smile as he threaded their fingers together.

Bucky pulled him into a hug.


	3. Collect

Steve’s footsteps echoed in the empty stairwell as he climbed the concrete steps. Even though their apartment was on the sixth floor, he liked to take the stairs, even on leg days like today. His calves and thighs were burning, but he still made the trek up anyways because Steve was hard-core like that (or, at least, that’s what Steve liked to think – Bucky would probably piss himself laughing if Steve actually admitted it out loud).

As he entered the apartment, a voice called out from within. “Steve? Is that you?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Steve replied as he removed his shoes.

“Perfect timing! Could you come here a moment?”

“Hmm?” Steve said, following the summons into the second bedroom.

Peggy was standing with her back to the mirror, looking over her shoulder as she tried to reach the back of a stunning red velvet dress.

“Wow Pegs, you look amazing,” Steve said from the doorway. The Englishwoman had done up her hair in victory curls, and Steve was still trying to figure out how on earth Peggy managed to look so incredible without a team of professional stylists.

“Could you help me zip up? I seem to have put on a few pounds since I last wore this,” she said with a chuckle.

“That’s not possible,” Steve said as Peggy turned and moved her hair to the side.

“Well, it’s true. I distinctly remember this dress being less constricting the last time I took it out,” said Peggy, watching him in the mirror.

“Date night tonight?” Steve asked as his fingers fumbled to find the zipper.

“Mmm,” Peggy agreed. “Angie and I are going to see The Lion King on Broadway. She's been buzzing with excitement all week.”

Steve chuckled; he could picture Angie’s exact expression. “There,” Steve said, his fingers gently patting the fabric at the top of the dress. “All zipped up.”

Peggy turned to thank him with a smile. As she gathered her coat and bag, she sighed heavily. “I’m going to miss New York.”

“Really? I was under the impression that you thought us Americans were just a bunch of – what did you call us? – oh yes, bumbling idiots,” Steve teased.

“Well, clearly not all of you,” Peggy said with a laugh.

The term was ending soon, and Peggy would be returning to England once her exchange was over. The thought of Peggy leaving made Steve sad – although they had only met a couple months ago, they had grown close, and Steve considered Peggy one of his best friends.

“Well I better be off, otherwise I’ll be late,” Peggy said as she headed towards the door. “Oh, and there was a postcard in the mail for you today.”

“There was?” Steve asked, trying to hide his excitement.

“Yes, I left it on the dining table. I’ll be back late, don’t wait up.”

“Have a good night; say hi to Angie for me.”

“I will!” said Peggy, followed by the sound of the front door closing.

Steve went immediately to the kitchen table, where there was indeed a postcard. The image on the front was the impressive façade of a castle nestled amongst a copse of trees and village buildings; across the bottom, the words ‘Greetings from Heidelburg!’ were printed.

Steve turned it over as he walked to his room.

 _Dear Stevie,_  
_Heidelburg Castle is amazing, but not as amazing as you. Germany continues to be gorgeous, but again, not as gorgeous as you. I wish you were here, or I was home. Either way, I miss you. Can’t wait to see you again,_  
_Love,_  
_-B_

Steve sighed, his heart aching as he clutched the postcard to his chest.

Retrieving a small shoebox from underneath his bed, Steve placed the postcard with the others. Most of the thick stack was old - his mother used to collect postcards from all the places his father was deployed to, and Steve was now adding to the collection, beginning with all the ones Bucky was sending from Germany.

One more month. Then Bucky would be home again.


	4. Hungry

The large clock on the wall opposite Steve had a very loud tick, and it kind of pissing off Steve cause the annoying sound was reminding him of just how slow time seemed to be going. He’d been here for about half an hour already, and he was getting bored. The Greyhound waiting room didn’t have too many people in it – just a few people in line to buy tickets and a couple other people lounging around, scattered over the rows of seats.

Steve was sitting with his legs tucked under him, his ragged jeans keeping him warm in the air-conditioned room. He’d be hot once he went out into the summer New York afternoon, but for now, the temperature was good. On his knees, Steve’s sketchbook was open. He’d already sketched a few of the other people waiting, and practiced drawing buildings by sketching the architecture of the room. Absentmindedly, his found himself doodling, and Steve wasn’t surprised when the stray lines on his page suddenly began to resemble Bucky.

He missed Bucky; that was for sure. His best friend had gotten a summer job as a youth councillor (read: babysitter) at a summer camp outside of the city, and Bucky had been out in the wilderness and living in a cabin for the last two months. Steve had wanted to go too, but the outdoors weren't great for him, on account of his frail lungs, asthma, and a list of allergies as long as his arm.

Steve sighed.

He was seventeen and still as scrawny as he was back in elementary school. Bucky had constantly assured him that he’d hit his growth spurt someday, that someday he’d get big and tall and finally ‘have a body large enough to contain all that stupid,’ but it had never happened.

Looking at the clock, Steve frowned. The bus should have been back by now.

As if on cue, the glass doors at the other end of the room slid open, and people started streaming into the room. Steve scrambled to his feet, closing his sketchbook and shoving it into his backpack. Anxiously, Steve bounced on the balls of his feet and bit his lip anxiously as passengers came through the doors. Some were greeted by people in the waiting room; others walked straight through and out onto the street. There! Bucky’s tufts of dark hair!

As he came into view, Steve’s eyes catalogued every single change in the boy since the last time they were together. His hair had grown out, long enough to tuck behind an ear. His skin was tanned, sun-kissed and warm looking (Steve wanted to run his lips over every inch of it). He looked more fit somehow, too (may all that hiking and canoeing had made him more fit after all).

Steve could tell the moment Bucky spotted him – his face lit up with the biggest smile, his eyes bright with surprise. Unable to hold back, Steve ran forwards, colliding with Bucky in a big embrace.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Bucky laughed.

Not wasting a moment (and not caring about making a scene), Steve grabbed Bucky’s face in his hands and pulled him down for a deep kiss.

“Whoa there,” Bucky said, slightly breathless a minute later. “Hold your horses, Rogers; I’ve only been in New York for all of five minutes and you’re ready to jump my bones?”

Steve chuckled, grinding his hips into Bucky's and placing his lips right by Bucky’s ear to whisper, “It’s not my fault that I’m always hungry for your cock.”

Bucky’s resulting choking sound made Steve laugh – he could feel Bucky’s groin twitch and that was all the satisfaction he needed.

“Jesus Christ, you're going to be the death of me, Stevie,” Bucky whispered back. “You can’t say things like that in public! Let’s get outta here – wanna have a real welcome home with my best guy.”

Steve grinned widely. It was good to have Bucky back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so much fun and I can't believe this is going so well =D


	5. Sad

Wisps of hot steam curled skyward from Steve’s hot cup of coffee, sending the enticing aroma of the rich, dark elixir into the air. Leaning over the table, Steve curled his hands around the warm porcelain mug, letting the heat seep into his skin. Outside, the late November Noew York winter air had frosted the glass, painting it with icy patterns.

“It’s not so bad,” said Sam, leaning back into his seat across from Steve. “It’ll only be for one term.”

“I know, Sam, I know. Still doesn’t make me any happier.”

Sam sighed. “Look, man, I know you’re feeling apprehensive about this, but Bucky wants to do this, and in the long run, it’s going to be good for not just him, but for both of you.”

“I know! I’m not saying he shouldn’t go! I’m just saying that I don’t like it.”

“You need to talk to him, Steve. More communication is always better; there’s no such thing as too much communication! Bucky will understand. Just talk to him!”

“Talk to me about what?” came a smooth voice. Steve looked up to find Bucky’s handsome face smiling down at him, a full mug of coffee in one hand. Sliding onto the seat beside Steve, Bucky dropped a kiss to his temple and threw an arm around his shoulders.

Sam pointed a finger directly into Bucky’s face. “You need to have talk with your boy. And you,” Sam said, moving to point at Steve, “talk to your boy.” Picking up his mug, Sam drained the rest of his drink and got up. “I’ll leave you to it,” he said, grabbing his bag and marching out of the coffee shop.

Bucky turned to Steve. “Steve? What’s Sam talking about?”

Steve hunched over. “Nothing," he mumbled.

He didn’t have to look to know that Bucky was frowning. “Steve? What’s wrong?” When there was no answer, Bucky curled in around Steve – or, as much as he could when Steve was two inches taller and had an extra thirty pounds of muscle on him. “Stevie?”

“Germany,” Steve finally mumbled.

“Oh,” Bucky said, pulling away.

They’d had this argument more times than they could count, and it was getting old. Steve could feel the scars of it gouging themselves into his soul.

“It’s an amazing opportunity, Steve,” Bucky said quietly, looking at his hands on the table.

“I know,” Steve said bitterly. “Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

Bucky sighed. “I’m only there for three and a half months, and it’ll look so good on my resume once I graduate! It’s one of the biggest engineering companies in Munich and the work experience will be so valuable – and it’s paid! I don’t like that we have to do long distance either, but it’s either that, or we break up, and I really don’t want to do that.”

“I don’t want that either.”

“Then what do you want me to do? Turn it down and stay here?”

"No!" Steve rubbed his face in frustration. “That’s just– I want you to go; I know how amazing this opportunity is and I know how much you want it. I'm not asking you to stay. I just can't help feeling... upset. And it’s not your fault – this is just me and my anxiety and insecurity. I’m sorry,” Steve said, curling onto himself.

Bucky pulled Steve into a tight hug. “I’m sorry too. I love you.”

Steve sniffed. “You say that now, but I bet once you get there you're going to find some hot European chick or dude and you'll forget all about me. That's how it goes, right?” he joked, trying to lighten the mood again.

Bucky laughed. “Are you kidding? Find someone hotter than you? Have you SEEN you?”

Steve shrugged.

“And besides, none of them would be my Stevie.” The press of Bucky’s warm lips to Steve’s temple helped sooth his sadness. “I’m sorry this term is going to be crappy. You know I don’t like seeing you sad, and I hate that I’m the reason.”

Steve hugged Bucky back as tight as he could. “I know. It’s not your fault.”

It was only four months. He’d find a way to survive it somehow.


	6. Hidden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S AN HOUR LATE BUT IT'S STILL THE 6TH SOMEWHERE SO WHATEVER HERE'S THE CHAPTER

Steve jumped at the sound of knocking at the front door. Leaping from his seat on the couch, he almost tripped on the way to unlock it.

“Hey Steve!” Bucky said with a wide smile. Even though it was February and still quite chilly in the evenings, Bucky was dressed in a pair of shorts and a t-shirt, his school bag hefted over one shoulder and his gym bag in the other.

Steve smiled. “Hey Buck, how was practice?” he asked as Bucky stepped into the apartment.

“Eh, it was okay,” Bucky said, toeing off his shoes. “Coach made us run drills the whole time, and we didn’t even get to practice any set plays. It was kinda boring actually.”

Nodding as he led Bucky into the kitchen, Steve thought it must have been duller than it sounded. “You hungry? Ma left for her shift at the hospital an hour ago and left grilled cheese sandwiches.”

At the sound food, Bucky perked up. “Grilled cheese? That sounds awesome! Your mom makes the best grilled cheeses. And I’m always hungry, you know me.”

Steve rolled his eyes. At sixteen-going-on-seventeen, Bucky was voracious, and sometimes Steve couldn’t understand how the guy could eat so much and not weigh as much as a truck. Then again, Bucky did belong to, like, a bajillion sports teams, so all that exercise must burn a lot of energy. Taking the plate of golden brown sandwiches, Steve evenly laid out the sandwiches inside the toaster oven and set them to warm up as Bucky settled himself at the dining table.

“Is this for your class?” Bucky asked, and Steve found him leaning over his sketchbook. It was open to a page of a landscape he’d been working on earlier, trying to emulate a few scenes from the nature documentary that had been on TV.

“Nah, just practicing.”

“They’re fucking awesome,” Bucky said. “Your stuff is always amazing, Steve.”

“Eh, I’m okay,” Steve replied, pouring two glasses of water and bringing one over to Bucky.

“Don’t be modest, you’re really good.”

Steve shrugged. “Did you bring your English homework? Mr. Philips moved the due date for the group project and I wanted to get a head start on it.”

“We’ll worry about that later – grilled cheese is more important!” he said, striking a pose.

Steve laughed, and he could feel his admiration and love for Bucky welling up inside him. It was getting hard to bottle up his feelings, especially when Bucky made him laugh like this. Bucky’s jokes, how he always took care of Steve, the way his eyes sparkled whenever he got riled up, not to mention just how genuinely nice and funny and amazing he was in general? Yeah, Steve had fallen. Hard.

“Stevie?”

Hearing his name snapped Steve out of his thoughts. “Huh?”

Bucky gave him a funny look. “You okay?”

Shaking his head, Steve put on a smile. “Yeah, ‘course I am. Why?”

The corners of Bucky’s thin lips pulled down. “I dunno. You’ve just been... weird lately. What’s going on? Is something the matter?”

Steve swallowed. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the way you were looking at me just now.”

Shit. “What do you mean? I don’t-”

“Cut the crap, Rogers. I know when you’re lying to me.”

Steve didn’t know what to say. He honestly thought he’d kept his feelings hidden pretty well, and he thought he’d at least have more time to decide whether or not he wanted to bring it up with Bucky. Apparently, Steve wasn’t as subtle as he’d thought.

“Look, somethings been bothering you lately. I wasn't going to say anything, but it's gotten worse. Whatever’s going on, Steve, I just want to make sure you okay, yeah? I’m always gonna be on your side. I just wanna help.”

“I know,” Steve mumbled.

“You can tell me. I promise I won’t judge.”

“Don’t be mad, okay?”

“I won’t be mad, I promise.”

“I... think... I’m in love with you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah...”

“You fucking idiot!”

“W-What?”

“I’m in love with you too!”


	7. Lost

“Mister Rogers?”

Steve blinked, jolted out of his reverie and looked around. He was sitting in the NYU art studio, the large room littered with easels, covered canvasses, pain-splattered tables, and haphazard buckets of paintbrushes. In front of him was his own painting – Steve had been working on a piece for his traditional media class, although progress had been slow; how long had he been sitting here?

Looking towards the source of the voice, Steve spotted a middle aged man at the doorway. His curly, dark hair sat like a mop atop his head, his deep brown eyes sparkled with intelligence. A concerned frown pulled at his lips as he chewed on the end of a pair of wireframe glasses. He was dressed in a plain pair of khaki pants and a mauve coloured button-up shirt whose sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. A rucksack was slung over one shoulder, and a heavy book cradled in hand.

“Dr. Banner!” Steve said, sitting up.

“I thought that was you,” Dr. Banner said as he stepped into the room. “Are you still working on your painting? It’s past dinnertime, Steve. Don’t tell me you haven’t eaten yet?”

Looking out the window, the streets dark and the sun well below the horizon. Steve was kind of shocked; he hadn’t realized so much time had passed!

“Oh, I… didn’t realize,” Steve said, rubbing the back of his neck.

Dr. Banner seemed to frown. “Are you doing alright? You look rather… dazed.”

Steve had always found Dr. Banner to be a bit of an enigma. Ever since Bucky had introduced him as one of his favourite professors (and eventually his senior thesis supervisor), Steve thought that Dr. Banner was a peculiar kind of person, even for a particle physicist. His voice was calm and quiet, and he always seemed to move with a particularly measured fluidity. He wasn’t aggressive, nor was he timid, and he was surprisingly approachable. Bucky talked about him a lot and he seemed like he was a really good mentor.

“I… I don’t know,” Steve said.

The physicist shuffled into the room, dragged a spare stool over, and perched himself on it. “If you’re comfortable with sharing, I’d like to help in any way that I can.”

Steve tried to smile. “I’ve just been going through a rough patch lately, that’s all.”

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with the fact that Bucky’s in Germany, would it?”

Blushing, Steve looked away.

“I thought as much,” Dr. Banner said quietly. “Long distance relationships can be difficult.”

When Steve looked up, Dr. Banner was smiling sadly at him. “I just… I feel so lost without him,” Steve said, his voice barely above a whisper. “We got into a fight over skype yesterday and…” Steve rubbed his hands over his face in frustration.

“May I ask you a question?”

Steve nodded.

“Why do you think you feel so lost without him?”

Steve frowned. “I… guess… I mean, we’ve been best friends since we were kids, and we’ve been together since we were sixteen, and I miss him. So much. He makes me so happy. He’s a huge part of my life and without Bucky, I just feel like… Life’s less bright without him. I mean, I’ve still got my friends and stuff, but it’s not the same.”

Dr. Banner nodded. "Do you feel like you couldn't survive without him?"

"I... don't know? I mean, it would suck, but I probably could. Why?" 

“Just curious,” the physicist replied with a smile. “I know it’s probably not my place to say, but the two of you have a good thing going. Bucky talks about you a lot when he’s in the lab, and I can tell you love him just as much as he loves you. Now, are you hungry? I haven’t eaten yet. If you don’t mind joining an old man, there’s a pub not too far that does really great burgers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UGGG These deadlines are brutal when there's lots of stuff going on! It's Thanksgiving and I have to work on updates??? Well, I guess it's all part of the challenge =P


	8. Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo I'm a day behind... This is hard! It's Thanksgiving weekend and there's been family stuff going on and I didn't have time =( But I'm catching up tonight/tomorrow and I'm having a lot of fun still! Also, Tumblr provided me with the WONDERFUL moniker for this endeavor: it's FICTOBER! Since it's not quite Inktober... cause it's fiction and not ink drawings... SO YAY FICTOBER!

Rolling gray clouds filled the sky and blocked out the sun. It was cold and the air was filled with a fine mist of water and the deep, fresh scent of lush grass and budding flowers. Even in a three piece suit, Steve was shivering.

Trying to keep his face composed was possibly the most difficult task he’d ever encountered. Every muscle on his face was being delicately pulled into place, an extremely fragile façade that he knew could fall at any moment – but he needed to be strong, at least for the next couple of minutes.

Steve bore the crushing weight of the polished, wooden casket on his left shoulder, with one white, gloved hand gripping the pall and the other supporting it from underneath. It was a very simple design – they couldn’t have afforded anything fancy or expensive – but Steve still felt like it weighed more than anything he’d ever had to carry in his entire life.

The march from the chapel to the grave was also impossibly long. Every step of the way, Steve could feel a piece of himself breaking off. He was slowly becoming undone, unmade, until he was no more than a ghost of himself. The gravel crunched delicately beneath his polished, Sunday best shoes. When they reached the grass, the wet lawn felt slippery and uneven.

Finally, they reached the grave, and Steve, along with the other five pallbearers, lowered the casket to the ground, right beside the hole in the ground that was waiting to accept it. A complicated contraption was actually going to lower his mother into the gaping maw of the earth. His duty complete, Steve took a step back, and finally tore his eyes away from the lacquered wood.

A pair of clear, gray-blue eyes met his.

Bucky was standing on the opposite side of the casket. Freshly shaven, hair slicked, and buttoned into his own three piece suit, on any other day, Steve would have been delighted to see Bucky dressed up – although he hated it and tried to avoid wearing a suit whenever he could, Steve loved seeing Bucky all cleaned up, and it was treat on the rare occasions when he was forced into it.

A sadness hovered over Bucky’s presence, which shifted ever so slightly every time he looked at Steve. Bucky was Steve’s best friend, the love of his life, and for the last two years, he’d been Steve’s rock. Without him, Steve would have long been lost to despair as he watched his mother waste away.

The priest cleared his throat, and Steve attention was ripped away from Bucky.

The final prayer and blessings were thankfully very short. Back at the chapel, Steve had barely gotten through his speech without breaking (his voice had cracked at one or two places). Bucky stood beside him with a hand placed at the small of Steve’s back, and the touch was grouding. Steve was immensely grateful (they’d had to be careful all day – Catholic mass wasn’t exactly the best place for PDA with his boyfriend, after all).

Finally, the casket was moved over and as it was being lowered, Steve turned to bury his face in Bucky’s shoulder. 

He couldn’t watch.

Steve knew he was ruining Bucky’s suit with his tears, and it would have to be sent for dry cleaning, but he couldn’t help it. As he cried, Bucky’s fingers rubbed gentle circles into his spine, and he turned to tuck Steve under his chin.


	9. Broken

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand I'm still a day behind and this chapter was super rushed BUT I'm not giving up! This challenge, is, well, a challenge, but I'm glad for the opportunity to grow as a writer =) I hope y'all are enjoying it so far =D

Tears were shining in the corners of Steve’s blue-green eyes. Dark circles underneath them and the wrinkled state of his t-shirt belayed exhaustion. His sandy blonde hair was tousled, like Steve had been running his fingers through them in frustration over, and over again. Standing in the living room of Steve’s apartment, the love of Bucky’s life looked like a shadow of a man.

“It’s back.”

“Oh, Stevie...” Bucky said as he felt his heart drop through the floor (for more than one reason). He didn’t know what to say, but then again, there wasn’t really anything he could say to make things better. No words could possibly soothe what Steve must have been feeling. There was nothing to be said that hadn’t already been said countless times before, ever since this all started. “I’m so sorry.”

Steve wiped his wet eyes as his lungs expelled air in breathy puffs.

Bucky pulled Steve into a tight embrace, wrapping his arms around as much of Steve as he could reach (he was still struggling with the fact that Steve was, and had been, bigger than him for about two years now).

“There’s nothing else they can do?” Bucky asked gently. Deep down, he knew that Steve wouldn’t be on the verge of tears if there was anything the doctors could do, but he felt like it his was job to ask.

“No,” Steve said, his face buried into the crook of Bucky’s shoulder. “The chemo and radiation didn’t catch all of the spots in her liver, and now it’s metastasized to her lymph nodes.”

Bucky swallowed. “Do they know... how long?”

Steve sniffed loudly. “No, ain't got any estimates, but they figure she doesn’t have long.”

For several minutes, neither of them said anything. The only thing Bucky could really do was be there for Steve, so they just stood in the middle of the living room, holding each other. As Steve cried silently, Bucky looked around. He had grown up in this apartment almost as much as Steve had, and now knowing that the matron of this home would soon be gone... it made everything look different.

How many more times would he walk through the front door to see Sarah Rogers' small, soft, kind smile – sitting at the dining table, knitting on the couch, removing a tray of cookies from the oven? How many more times could he come to her for advice? Or share a cup of tea on a cold autumn afternoon?

“Buck... will you – can you stay the night?” Steve asked, his voice small.

“Of course,” said Bucky, leaning forwards to place a gentle kiss to Steve’s lips. “No matter what happens, I’ve got you. I promise.”


	10. Jump

“...and I totally should have re-read the question before I handed in my test but I was so worried about my answer on page two that I forgot and by the time I realized that I hadn’t finished part b, class was over.” Steve shucked his backpack, tossing it the ground at the foot of his bed as his slim shoulders sagged.

“I’m sure you did just fine. You’re good at history, you probably still got an A on the test,” Bucky said, removing his backpack as Steve went to his desk to put away his homework. Steve’s bedroom was small, and there was barely enough room for both of them to stand in, especially now that Bucky was at the tail end of his growth spurt, all lanky and awkward limbs, not a boy but not quite a man yet either.

“I hope so,” Steve said, still sounding dejected.

While Steve’s slender back was still turned, Bucky unzipped his bag and tried to remove the wrapped box inside and hide it behind his back as quietly as possible.

“How was practice today?” Steve asked as he put away his books.

“It was okay. Coach is getting worked up cause the regionals are coming up soon, and he wants everyone to be at the top of their game, but it wasn’t too bad.

Bucky was able to successfully hide the box before Steve turned back to face him. When Steve looked up and saw Bucky’s strangely secretive look, he raised an eyebrow.

“Buck? What’s going on?”

Bucky tried to suppress a smile. “Happy Birthday Steve,” he said, pulling the wrapped box from behind his back.

Steve frowned. “My birthday isn’t for another two months, you idiot.”

Bucky shrugged. “I know, it’s an early birthday present. It’ll make more sense when you open it.”

Steve looked confused more than anything as he accepted the small, flat box. Bucky felt proud of himself for the wrapping – he was completely useless when it came to stuff like this, but he’d saved his allowance, gone out and picked out wrapping paper especially for Steve and spent more time than he was willing to admit watching YouTube about how to wrap a gift and tie a bow.

Watching with nervous anticipation, Bucky hoped that Steve would like it. As Steve’s small, slender, elegant artist’s fingers slip the fancy bow off the box, Bucky's heart fluttered. A small wave of fear suddenly hit him – what if Steve didn’t like it? What if he’d messed up at the store and gotten the wrong set by accident? What if Steve was angry that he’d spent all of his allowance on the gift? What if-

The sound of ripping paper broke through Bucky’s thoughts as Steve removed the wrapping in one sift motion.

“Oh my god,” Steve said, his eyes widening. “Oh my god!” Steve said, looking up at Bucky. “You did not!”

Bucky laughed nervously. “Surprise?”

“Oh my god!” Steve cried, clutching the set of acrylic paints to his chest and – was Steve actually jumping? Yes, Bucky’s eyes were not deceiving him; Steve was indeed bouncing in place. “How did you- Please don’t tell me you blew your entire allowance on these!”

A faint blush crept up onto Bucky’s face. “Well, not _all_ of it...” he said. Steve had been gushing over the paint section at the art store a few weeks back, and Bucky knew that he’d been running out of the ones he’d gotten for his birthday last year.

“Thank you Bucky!” Steve said, throwing his arms around Bucky, gathering him into a tight embrace.

“Your welcome,” Bucky said. A warm, bright feeling was blossoming in his chest, and the blush on his face was deepening. He and Steve had never had any issues with personal boundaries, but recently, Bucky had been becoming more aware of every time Steve touched him, whether it was in passing, or deliberately, like now. He didn’t know what it meant, but... he knew that Steve was the best thing in his life, and Bucky wasn’t about to let anything come between them.


	11. Transport

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GAH NOW I'M TWO DAYS BEHIND?!?!?!

Travelling down the highway, the car motor rumbled quietly as mounds of sand passed by. The late afternoon sun was high in the sky, floating lazily amongst white, puffy clouds. Outside, for as far as the eye could see, there was nothing but sand, striated stone, and thorny shrubs. Bucky had only ever seen cartoons of the dessert, and he was surprised by the amount of vegetation here, despite the brown-gray colour of their leaves.

The rental car hummed as Bucky drove, one foot on the gas pedal and two hands on the steering wheel. In the passenger seat beside him, Steve was stretched out, his long legs propped up on the dashboard and his wide upper torso spilling over onto the centre console and the space between their seats. One of Steve’s large, muscular arms was leaning between them, the side of his warm bicep resting against Bucky’s side. An open bag of chips, half eaten, lay in Steve’s lap, crinkling every so softly with the vibration of the vehicle. Steve had fallen asleep some time ago, the sunlight dancing off his blonde hair and fine eyelashes. They’d started driving after finishing up lunch, but Bucky didn’t want to rush things. By the looks of it, they wouldn’t be getting back to Vegas until close to midnight, but he didn’t care. If it came to it, they could always just crash at a motel and drive back the next morning.

Bucky shifted in his seat, his butt getting sore from being trapped in a sitting position for too long. In the background, soft jazz music filtered through the stereo system. Steve had plugged in his iPod for the trip and he’d put on a Marvin Gaye album just before he nodded off, and it was still playing the last couple of tracks.

Sighing, Bucky gripped the steering wheel nervously. Ever since they were kids, Steve had always wanted to visit the Grand Canyon, but he’d never really gotten the chance to travel. Both their families had been on rather tight budgets, and as a result, neither of them had gotten the chance to travel much. In fact, Bucky’s foreign exchange term during his undergrad was probably the closest he’d ever come to going on vacation, and it was certainly the furthest he’d ever been from home. The two of them had always talked about visiting, but it seemed like life kept getting in the way. Between school and summer internships and Sarah's passing, there hadn't been time or money. Now, though, they finally, found the opportunity to come out west and they were planning on making the most of it (at least, Bucky was).

Time seemed to blur together, and as the miles of Nevada desert passed them by, Bucky felt the minutes melting away. When Steve stirred from his nap, Bucky glanced at the clock. It was almost three in the afternoon, and another hour or two to go.

“Hey Buck, how you holding up?” Steve asked as he stretched.

“Doin’ just fine,” Bucky replied.

“You need to switch? I can drive the last leg there.”

Bucky shook his head. “Nah, I’m good to get us there.”

“Kay,” said Steve sleepily, and a moment later, he was nuzzling softly into Bucky’s shoulder.

Briefly taking one hand off the wheel, Bucky ruffled Steve’s hair. “Almost there, babe.”

“Mmm,” Steve hummed, already nodding back off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was probably one of my favourite chapters to write so far - I love poetic description and it's a lot of fun, but when you only have 500-600 words per chapter, it's hard to fit it into scenes with a lot going on. I like the way it slows down the pace of things, and I just love the vibe from passages like this one. I hope to be able to catch up soon!


	12. Worried

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M CATCHING UP! RWAR!

Steve sat on the bed, watching as Bucky paced back and forth. Outside the window of their small, shared bedroom, darkness had fallen and the Brooklyn night sky was illuminated by the street lights below. The apartment was tiny, but it was theirs. Steve was wearing a pair of boxers and a loose tank top he’d made by cutting the sleeves off of an old band t-shirt. The lamp perched on the bedside table was on, but it was the only source of light in the room.

Wearing a pair of plaid pajama pants, Bucky wasn’t even looking at Steve as he ranted. His long, dark hair was pulled into a loose knot at the back of his head, and his hands motioned wildly as Steve watched him go back and forth. Bucky had just taken a shower, and a bit of moisture still clung to the bare skin on his chest and back.

Steve wasn’t really listening much – he was used to this, and instead, was spending his time admiring Bucky. They’d been together for six years now, but Steve never got tired of looking at Bucky, the way he moved, the way he gestured while he talked, the way his eyes lit up when he was happy, the way he smiled... Steve loved everything about Bucky’s body. Yes, he realized that Bucky was conventionally attractive, but Steve would love him even if he wasn’t, and Steve knew that the sentiment ran both ways. Hell, when they’d first gotten together, and even when they’d first said ‘I love you,’ Steve had still been tiny, scrawny, and riddled with medical problems.

“...and I overheard Stark saying that the professor was thinking of not scaling the exam, even if the average was low because of the fiasco that happened at the midterm!”

Sighing very quietly, Steve unfolded his legs from beneath him and stood. Freaking out and venting was part of Bucky’s process, but Steve figured that he’d let Bucky drive himself crazy for long enough. Steve placed his hands on Bucky’s shoulders, and the contact made Bucky still, his mouth open around a half-formed word.

“Buck, look at me.”

Bucky did as he was told. It was still a bit strange for Steve that Bucky had to look up to him (for the vast majority of their friendship-turned-relationship, Steve had always been the one looking up at Bucky.

“Buck, don't worry, it’s going to be just fine.”

“Steve, I need to get a 68% on this final to graduate! I don't just need to pass, I need to get at least a B- to keep up my average for my honours!” Bucky said, a slight twinge of desperation in his voice.

“Okay, take a deep breath. In and out; that’s it. You are not going to fail this exam. One, you’ve been studying for weeks. You know your stuff, and you’re going to be fine, just like you always are. Two, even if you do fail the course, it definitely isn’t going to stop you from graduating. Even if you can't complete your honours, it’s not going to be the end of the world. You'll still get your engineering degree, and you have lots of co-op experience, and everything will be okay.”

Exhaling nervously, Bucky blinked and bit his lower lip.

“Come to bed, okay? It’ll all be alright. Okay?”

“I- okay. Okay.”

Steve placed a kiss to Bucky’s soft lips. “C’mon Buck. Bedtime.”

Gently, Steve guided Bucky to bed, the two of them curling up under the covers together. Turning off the lamp, the room was plunged into darkness.

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice was muffled by Steve's large, muscular chest.

“Mm?”

“I love you.”

Steve smiled. “I love you too.”


	13. Scared

Bucky knocked on the wood of the door nervously. His hands were shaking and he was sweaty from running. Backpack in one hand and jacket in the other, he bounced unconsciously in the hall until he heard the lock clicking and the door open.

“Bucky,” Sarah Rogers said quietly, a small smile on her face.

“Hi Mrs. Rogers,” Bucky said, trying to smile without appearing too anxious.

“Come on in,” said Mrs. Rogers, opening the door wider.

Bucky slipped into the small foyer of the Rogers’ tiny Brooklyn apartment, letting Mrs. Rogers to close the door behind him.

“How... how is he?” Bucky asked anxiously as he toed off his shoes.

Steve’s mother sighed. “Not much better.”

“Is he... awake?”

Mrs. Rogers shook her head. “I don’t think so, but you can go check.”

Nodding, Bucky took off towards Steve’s room without another word. When he reached the door to Steve’s room, Bucky turned the doorknob slowly, trying to make as little noise as possible as he inched open the door. Peeking into the room, Bucky spied Steve in bed, swaddled in his blankets.

As carefully as possible, Bucky put one socked foot into Steve’s room. When Steve didn’t stir, he took another step, and another. He was almost at Steve’s bedside when his foot caught a creaky board, and Steve shifted.

“Ma?” Steve croaked, his eyes still closed.

“Hey Stevie, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Bucky said, sitting on the edge of Steve’s bed.

“Buck? What are you doing here? What time is it?”

“3:30.”

“3:30? On a Wednesday? Don’t you have practice?”

Bucky shrugged. “Not important.”

Steve frowned. “You skip too many practices and you’re gonna get kicked from the team.”

“Like I said, not important.”

Steve huffed.

“You should rest, Steve. Go back to sleep.”

Bucky sat at Steve’s bedside until he nodded off again. His breathing was shallow and uneven, and Steve's small body looked even frailer than usual. Trying to quell the uneven beating of his heart, Bucky retreated to the kitchen to find something to eat. He found Mrs. Rogers sitting at the dining table, a steaming mug in her calloused hands.

“Would you like some tea, Bucky?” she asked as he crept towards the kitchen.

“Um. Okay.”

The silence in the apartment was eerie, and Bucky didn’t know what to do with himself. He took a seat across from Steve’s mother, and his eyes were glued to his hands as she poured him a cup.

“He’ll be fine,” Sarah Rogers said as she slid the mug across the table.

“Are you sure?” Bucky asked, biting his bottom lip anxiously.

“Steve will be okay. It’s not the first time he’s been sick.”

“I know, but for this long?” Bucky had visited every day after school this week. Every night since Steve fell ill, he’d tossed and turned all night, unable to sleep; it was eating him alive from the inside.

“He doesn’t look it, but Steve’s a fighter,” Mrs. Rogers said quietly.

“Um, ma'am?”

“Mm?”

“I-” _I’m scared_ , Bucky wanted to say. _I’m scared Steve won’t make it; I’m scared of life without him; I’m scared he doesn’t love me_. “Can I stay over tonight again?” he asked instead. He'd been sleeping on the couch in the Rogers' living room for the last four night, but he still felt the need to ask, just to make sure it was okay.

“Of course, Bucky.” Her smile was soft, her eyes full of affection. “You’re welcome at our place any time.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said, taking a sip of his tea. “I’m gonna...” He looked towards Steve’s room, just a few paces down the hall.

“I’ll start dinner.”

Once he was back in Steve’s room, Bucky unpacked his homework from his bag and sat at Steve’s desk.

A fruitless hour later, Bucky looked towards Steve, dozing quietly. Getting up, Bucky went to Steve’s side and placed a hand on his forehead, brushing the strands of silky hair to the side. Maybe one day he’d work up to courage to tell Steve how he felt. One day. Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I'm realizing that there are more sad chapters than I had initially thought... lol oops XD


	14. Tree

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaand I'm two days behind again @_@

“Would you like more egg salad, Steve?”

Steve, with his mouth full of pastrami sandwich, shook his head. “No thanks, ma,” he said after swallowing.

“That means more for me,” she said with a small chuckle, scooping another large serving onto her plate.

Sitting in the middle of their picnic blanket, mother and son were content to enjoy their lunch in silence. Central Park was an oasis of nature in the city, and although they could still hear the hustle and bustle of the city from their spot, Steve was content. Taking another bite of his sandwich, he was happy to people watch as other park-goers passed them by. A father with his children, pushing a stroller with one hand and guiding his daughter with the other. A pair of running buddies dressed in athletic gear. A pair of lovers, holding hands and whispering sweet words into each other’s ears. A dog walker trying to juggle five dogs on leashes at once.

A light breeze blew by, and the cool air felt nice on Steve’s face. This was their favourite picnic spot; his mother had been bringing him here for picnics ever since he was little. They were situated underneath a large oak tree, and the branches and leaves provided nice shade from the hot August summer sun.

Steve’s sketchbook lay pen in his lap, one hand holding his sandwich, the other a graphite pencil. He was sketching outlines as he ate, and planned to fill in more detail from memory later. Fidgeting, Steve tried to get comfortable – he still wasn’t quite used to his gangly long legs. After pretty much accepting his fate as a small, scrawny human, puberty had hit Steve like a steamroller. Within what felt like a month, he shot up six inches and his voice dropped an octave or two, and he was still growing. Starting senior year in the fall was going to be interesting – maybe Steve would finally be taken seriously at try-outs this year. It would be great if he and Bucky could play on the same school team, instead of Bucky playing and Steve watching from the bleachers.

Thoughts of Bucky had his mind wandering to his boyfriend, and it brought a smile to his lips.

“You thinkin’ about that boy of yours?”

Steve turned to find his mother smiling affectionately at him.

“Um... no?” Steve said, although the blush creeping up on his cheeks begged to differ.

Sarah chuckled as she took another bite of egg salad, leaning back against the tree trunk. “You’re not fooling no one, especially not your mother,” she teased.

“Ma!” Steve said, his blush deepening until he could feel his face and chest burning.

Sarah laughed, musical and light, and it made Steve glow with love.

“You’re just like your father. He would blush as red as a beet when he was embarrassed too,” she said as her laugh petered out into a wide smile.

“Really?”

“That’s right.” His ma was smiling distantly, and Steve knew that she was thinking of his father. "You're growing up to be just like him. Although, I think you might end up bigger than him the way you've been growing this year," she chuckled. Steve couldn’t remember much about his father – he’d died when Steve was little, and when he’d been alive, he’d spent most of it deployed overseas. “You know, this is where we had our very first date, right here under this tree,” she said, still smiling.

“You did?” Steve asked, incredulous. He’s never heard about this before.

“Yep. We had a picnic right here. It was springtime, and the birds were beginning to come back to the park.”

As Sarah drifted off into the memory, recounting to Steve how she’d met his father, and how she felt nervous and excited all at once on their first date, Steve wondered if this is how he would feel in twenty years or so, retelling the story of how he and Bucky got together. The thought made him smile.


	15. Wet

Steve gripped Bucky’s hand tightly in his, and the warmth of Bucky’s fingers intertwined with his own was a comfort. It grounded him and helped him keep his focus. Steve could feel Bucky’s smooth silver wedding band against the webbing of his hand, and Steve both wanted to smile and cry at the same time.

Looking over, Steve watched as Bucky scrolled through Facebook on his phone. Bucky was wearing black leather shoes with a pair of dark designer jeans that hugged his thighs and calves. A crystalline blue shirt was buttoned over his broad chest, and a heavy trench coat and navy scarf completed his outfit.

All around them, the sounds of the New York subway echoed – the clacking of wheels against steel rails, the squeak and groan of the old subway car, the rush of air as they travelled through the tunnel. The train car was old, and the ancient lights shed a flickering dim light over them. It wasn’t crowded – not at 11am on a Wednesday morning, and Steve was grateful.

The train slowed as it approached the next stop, all of its passengers swaying in unison. A chime sounded, and the doors slid open. Steve took a step forwards, tugging at Bucky’s arm. Bucky looked up from his phone and, noticing it was their stop, followed Steve off the train.

A film of muddy water coated the tiles of the stairs as they exited the subway station, their fingers still interlocked. It was raining lightly when they surfaced, and Steve looked up to find the skies dominated by dark, grey clouds. Drops of mist sprinkled Steve’s face and neck, and he could feel the cool, damp air seeping into his coat.

Bucky pocketed his phone and it was his turn to tug Steve forwards. “Okay?” he asked quietly.

Steve stared into Bucky’s grey-blue eyes for a few moments before nodding his head.

Bucky’s fingers gently squeezed his cold ones.

Almost in a trance, Steve followed the path that he had now memorized over the last eight years. From the subway station, they made their way half a block east to Nostrand Ave, where Steve bought a bouquet of sunflowers. Clutching them to his chest, Steve felt himself growing numb as they continued north-east.

A small, stone double-arch adorned the entrance to the Holy Cross Cemetery. Steve and Bucky passed underneath it side by side. Small paved roads neatly divided the lawns into small, irregular rectangles and squares.

The light rain was seeping into both Steve and Bucky’s clothes, the chill beginning to sink its claws into the skin. Steve felt wet and cold, the water dripping from their hair and sleeves. The weather was always seemed to be like this when he visited.

It didn’t take long for Steve’s feet to lead him to his mother’s resting place.

Carefully, Steve knelt in the grass, not caring that his knees were getting soaked. Meticulously, with almost ritualistic care, Steve took his gloves from his pockets and put them on before sweeping away the small bits of grass and dirt from the gravestone. As he lay down the flowers, he could feel Bucky’s hand firm on his shoulder, and tried not to cry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I spent several hours trying to figure out how to do 'wet' without making it a sad chapter, before (a) I was too tired to try to force it to work and (b) I realized that I for some ungodly reason really enjoy writing sad chapters, so THIS IS WHAT THE CHAPTER'S GOING TO BE I'M SORRY BUT IT'S SAD AND THERE'S LOTS OF SAD CHAPTERS TO COME STILL


	16. Battle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooooooooo the second half of October just turned into a little bit of a nightmare and it took pretty much all my effort to keep my head above water. Needless to say, I didn't have time to write and I totally failed at this whole challenge thing. I'm still interested in finishing this story though, cause I really like where it's going and it's a great style exercise, so I'm totally going to keep going! There may not be updates every day, but I'm aiming to be finished this piece by Christmas ^_^  
> Anyways, enjoy chapter 16!

Setting down the fruit knife, Steve scooped up the orange slices with his hands and plopped them into the pitcher. He grabbed the wooden spoon and mashed them gently against the side of the glass with the other fruit. He could hear laughter coming from the living room as a generous helping of sparkling juice joined the mixed fruit. Finally, Steve popped the cork on the bottle of red wine and filled the pitcher to the top.

Grabbing a bowl of snacks on his way out of the kitchen, Steve swished into the living room, humming along with the music coming out of the television.

“STEVE!” A voice shouted as soon as he stepped into the room. It was boisterous and loud, filled with laughter and the sounds of good company, and Steve smiled.

“CLINT!” Steve shouted back as he set the pitcher and bowl on the coffee table.

“I CHALLENGE YOU AND YOUR BOY TO A BATTLE!” Clint shouted, thrusting a game controller into Steve’s face. “You and Bucky against me and Nat!”

Steve laughed. “You’re on!”

“Wait what? Couples’ battle? I want in!” Sam scrambled over the back of the couch, almost spilling his beer in the process.

“No! This is between Nat, me, Steve, and Bucky,” Clint whined.

“Yo Reilly! Get your ass over here!”

Reilly had been laughing at one of Maria’s jokes, but turned at the summons, strands of his dark hair falling across his face. “What? What’s going on now?”

“We’re doing a couples’ battle!” Sam shouted.

Reilly’s dark eyes instantly lit up. “Sweetness!” he said, practically jumping into Sam’s lap; everyone laughed as Sam tried to juggle his beer, his controller, and his fiancé.

“Six people? There aren’t enough controllers; we only have four,” Maria pointed out as Steve took a seat between Sam and Bucky,.

“We’ll share controllers,” Bucky said.

“What? How? Like, hand off every time you die?”

“Well we could do that, but I was thinking of something more interesting,” Bucky said with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “Each couple shares a controller, and each person will have half a controller to themselves. Like this,” Bucky said, reaching over to the controller in Steve’s lap. Steve was grasping the right half of the controller in his right hand, with his fingers resting on the button controls right bumpers. Bucky curled his fingers over the left half of the controller, and his fingers rested over the joy stick and left bumpers.

“What??? But that’s so awkward!” Clint pouted.

“That’s the point,” Bucky said, waggling his eyebrows. “It’s the perfect test of teamwork and communication.”

“In that case, we’re going to wipe the floor with you,” said Sharon, picking up the last controller.

“Oh no, I’m not getting dragged into this,” Maria said, backing up.

“C’mon, it’ll be fun!” When Maria shook her head, Sharon gave her sad puppy eyes until she caved and joined her on the floor in front of the TV.

“YES! EXCELLENT! Let the battle begin!” Clint announced as he guided the game to the selection screen.

Everyone immediately began strategizing with their partners, but as Bucky leaned in and whispered his thoughts on the best way to eliminate their friends, all Steve cared about was the feeling of Bucky’s thigh pressed up against his side and Bucky’s warm breath on his ear.


	17. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE!  
> ...So I know I had wanted to finish this before the year ended but... clearly that didn't happen XD I'm still planning on finishing the rest of the chapters though! I visited home for the holidays, and I'm now feeling refreshed and energized, and I hope that translates into some kind of productivity, both at work and in terms of fiction writing XD There are a few things in the works that I've got planned, but as always, my first priority will be finishing my WIPs XP
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy the new chapter! =D

Bucky paced back and forth, the rubber soles of his worn sneakers scraping against the concrete roof. His blood was still roiling from the fight, and his trembling fingers fumbled with the half-empty pack of cigarettes. Scowling, Bucky finally managed to extract one from the slightly squashed box. With the cigarette perched between his lips, Bucky searched his pockets for a matchbook. It took four tries for him to get the damn thing lit because it was as windy as ever up on this goddamn roof, but at the moment, he didn’t care.

Shivering in the cold, late winter air, Bucky took a long drag.

The sharp, acrid smoke filled his lungs, and he could feel the tension beginning to loosen in his shoulders.

The fights have been getting nastier and more frequent, but Bucky couldn’t really blame Steve, not really. He knew that Steve normally wouldn’t be like this, he was just having a hard time coping with Sarah’s diagnosis. The chemo was eating away at Sarah, and as Sarah’s energy faded away, so too did a part of Steve’s soul, it seemed.

Steve always apologized and they always made up and worked things out after their fights, but it didn’t make the actual arguments any less pleasant.

Exhaling in the cool air, the smoke billowed and undulated in the wind. The crisp, dry tobacco glowed amber as Bucky took another drag.

The rooftop was barren and ugly, but it was a good place for Bucky to hide out, somewhere he could get away from things. Steve hated it when he smoked, and Bucky would have never smoked inside the Rogers’ tiny apartment anyways. He only smoked when he was stressed out, and it took him months to go through a whole pack, but still, it was bad habit and Steve always scowled when he did it.

Sighing, Bucky brought the cigarette to his lips as he gazed out over the Brooklyn skyline.

He should probably get back soon. Their fight probably woke Sarah from her nap, and she would probably be worried about them, and Bucky didn’t want that. The woman who was as good as a second mother to him already had enough to worry about. He’d climb back down the fire escape after he finished his smoke, maybe change his shirt so he wouldn’t smell like ashes, and go see how Sarah was doing. Steve would probably still be fuming. If Bucky had to guess, he’d be locked up in his room venting in his sketchbook, and would only emerge when the anger had burned itself out and been replaced with guilt.

Tapping the ash from the end of the cigarette, Bucky took another drag.


	18. Flight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (look at me, knocking it out of the park XD Two updates in one day!)

Steve bounced impatiently on the balls of his feet. The bouquet of flowers he was cradling in his arms bounced along with him, the cellophane and tissue paper wrapping made a soft crinkling sound as the carefully arranged blossoms moved.

Dressed in a pair of beige khaki shorts and a light blue button up shirt, it was exactly the kind of outfit that Bucky would have made fun of him for – ‘you dress like someone twice your age, Rogers,’ he would have said – if he had been here.

Speaking of Bucky and ‘here’...

Steve craned his neck – not that he needed to, because being six feet two inches tall had its advantages, but it was a leftover habit from when he was tiny, before puberty – to check the large display board.

The waiting area was crowded, and Steve was starting to sweat a little in the warm, late spring air - there had been an early heat wave over New York this week. Bucky flight had already been delayed by an hour, and Steve was getting antsy. He checked his phone again, and he was sure the old lady beside him was giving him looks because who in their right mind checks their phone six times in two minutes?

But there was still no word from Bucky.

Steve began to chew on his bottom lip. What if something went wrong at immigration? Or what if his bags were searched in customs? What if Bucky accidently tried to bring back something illegal from Germany? Or if he was selected for a random search? What if something went wrong with his paperwork? Or his passport? Or –

The misted glass doors slid open, and Steve started. A handful of people emerged, and Steve’s eyes darted over each of their faces – an old couple, an Asian family, a woman texting as she walked, a middle aged man talking loudly into his phone.

The doors slid closed. Still no Bucky.

Running a hand through his short hair, Steve exhaled, trying to relax. He wasn’t even sure why he was so worked up – well he did, because being separated from Bucky for the last four months had been all kinds of hell, but still, he didn’t think that he’d be _this_ worked up over it. But the important thing was they’d done it; they’d made it through the term with their relationship intact, and although it had been hard, the experience had only made them stronger.

The doors slid open once more, and again Steve found himself craning his neck to see. A family of four, a small girl and her grandfather, and –

“Oh my god,” Steve breathed.

There he was.

Bucky’s dark, long hair almost brushed his shoulders, swept back and stuffed underneath a baseball cap. He looked like he hadn’t shaved in a couple days, and there was dark scruff dusting his face, jaw and neck. He was wearing a red hoodie and a pair of soft, faded jeans. A tall backpack was hefted over one shoulder, and he was pushing two suitcases as he stepped through the doorway and into the waiting room.

Steve was about to call out when their eyes met over the crowd, and the biggest wave of relief washed over Steve.

Tears prickled unexpectedly at the edges of Steve’s eyes, and he’d be damned if he started crying, but he couldn’t help it.

Bucky was back.


	19. Squeeze

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...aaand this is where the rating goes up from Mature to Explicit XP  
>  Also: WARNING this chapter contains some underage fooling around  
> Enjoy!

Bucky couldn’t see well in the dark, not to save his life, but he was 90% sure that Steve was blushing all the way down to his chest by his heavy breathing.

“Is... uh, is this okay, Stevie?” Bucky whispered. They were lying on Steve’s bed, their faces just inches apart with the blankets pulled over their heads. “Do you need your inhaler?”

Steve moved; Bucky could hear from the way the sheets rustled, but he couldn’t tell if Steve was nodding or shaking his head.

“Stevie?”

“I’m... I’m good,” Steve whispered back. “Jus’ hot is all.” Bucky could feel Steve’s heated breath on his face, and when he reached forward, his fingertips found Steve’s forehead slick with sweat.

Bucky could feel Steve’s small hands petting his narrow chest, sliding deliciously over his moist skin. Bucky still couldn’t believe that this was happening. It was only maybe the fifth or sixth time (definitely the sixth, not that Bucky was keeping count...) that they’d fooled around, and part of Bucky felt guilty, because wasn’t this the kind of thing that the priest on Sunday said was sinful? But on the other hand... When a stray fingertip brushed his hard nipples, it went straight to Bucky’s groin. Moaning quietly in the darkness, part of him didn’t care if they were going to hell.

“Shhh,” Steve admonished; Mrs. Rogers was a light sleeper, and her room was just across the hall. “I’m... I’m getting close.”

Bucky twisted his hand a little and squeezed Steve’s erection a bit tighter, earning him a soft sound of tortured pleasure from Steve. “Like that?” he whispered.

Steve merely gasped in response.

The heat was mounting, and Bucky sped up a bit, stroking Steve’s impressively large cock. Steve’s laboured breathing and light petting was getting equally as worked up. “C’mon Steve,” Bucky whispered, placing a hand on Steve’s small, frail shoulder. “I can tell you’re almost there.”

Steve shivered and gasped quietly. “Bucky!”

“That’s it Stevie,” Bucky all but purred as he stroked faster and squeezed in just the right way –

“B-Bucky!”

And then Steve was spilling all over Bucky’s fingers and the carefully laid out rags between them. Bucky wished he could have seen Steve’s face as he came – he would have bet his life that it looked absolutely heavenly. As his breathing began to even out, Steve inches closer on the small mattress; instinctively, Bucky wrapped his arms around Steve’s small frame.

“Did- did you?” Steve asked between his breaths.

Bucky shook his head. “No, but it’s okay.”

Steve’s hands were trailing down Bucky’s chest, but Bucky caught them just as they reached the elastic of his boxers.

“But... you didn’t...?”

“’s fine Stevie, don’t worry about it,” Bucky said, “next time.”

Steve must have been super blissed out, cause normally he would have argued, but instead, he just hummed in agreement. It wasn’t long before Steve was fast asleep in his arms. Bucky cleaned up using the dirty rags and tossed them to the floor. He knew it was risky staying in bed with Steve like this, but he couldn’t bring himself to let go. It was a tight fit, two scrawny fourteen year old boys on a twin-sized mattress, but he wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.


	20. Big

The sun was low over the horizon, and the clear, desert sky was blazing bright. The colours were intense and amazing - streaks of bright pink, fiery orange, and glowing crimson. It was gorgeous, and everything Bucky had hoped it would be. They’d arrived at the Grand Canyon late in the afternoon, and spent the first hours just soaking in the magnificent site. There were some hiking trails the zig-zagged along the side of the canyon edge, and they’d wandered down one of the paths hand in hand, taking their time. Once they’d gone far enough that the mass of tourists had disappeared from sight, they’d jumped the fence and wandered out to find a secluded spot at the edge of the canyon.

Steve had taken out his art supplies. He’d wanted to paint the Grand Canyon since he was young, and it made Bucky happier than he’d ever been in his life to see Steve getting to fulfill that dream. Bucky had taken a couple pictures before settling down on the rough stone, his back propped up against the rocks. Steve hunkered down between his legs, content to paint and draw and sketch for as long as the light lasted.

To his credit, from where he was sitting, Bucky didn’t know which view was better: the canyon, or the wide expanse of Steve’s massive shoulders. Content simply to hold the man he loved in his arms, Bucky had rested his cheek on Steve’s back, in the dip between his shoulder blades, and let the rise of fall of Steve’s breathing guide the beating of his heart.

Now, as the sun was just touching the edge of the earth, Bucky lifted his head.

“’s getting late, Stevie. Almost done?”

“Mmm,” Steve hummed, and Bucky felt his chest vibrate with the sound. “Just a few more minutes.”

“’Kay,” Bucky replied, leaning forward once more. This was it, the time was coming. He’d been waiting for this for so long, and he could feel his heartrate rising.

A few minutes later, Steve stretched. “I’m done,” he said, pushing himself to his feet.

“We should go soon,” Bucky said.

“Yeah, we should probably find a motel or something,” Steve said as he began gathering his art supplies, putting them in the canvas backpack that he’d brought.

When Steve finished, Bucky held up his camera. “One more picture?”

Steve laughed. “Sure.”

They crowded together and Bucky extended his arm with the camera facing them, the canyon in the background, and snapped the picture.

“This has been the best day ever,” Steve said dreamily as he walked back towards the fence.

Bucky smiled.

“Buck?” Steve asked, turning with a look of confusion when he realized that Bucky hadn’t moved.

“There’s... one more thing, actually.”

Steve frowned. “Okay?” he said, coming back to stand in front of his boyfriend.

Bucky took Steve’s hands and his heart leapt into his throat. “Stevie. Steve. I love you. So much,” he all but croaked.

Steve’s confusion turned to concern. “I-I love you too Buck. Are you okay?”

Bucky smiled nervously. “Yeah. I’m... I’ve never been happier.”

“Buck? What’s going on?”

“Steve... listen. You’re...” Bucky could feel the tears starting to prickle at the edge of his eyes. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. The moment I met you... it changed my whole life. You’re the strongest, bravest, most incredible man I know, and I’m so fucking lucky to know you, let alone be with you and I...”

Reaching into his pocket for the small ringbox nestled there, Bucky got down on one knee.

Steve’s eyes went as round as saucers. “Oh my god, Buck, oh my god, are you-”

“Steve, will you marry me?”

“You little shit!” Steve said, but tears were running down his cheeks and he was smiling brighter than the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the chapters surrounding Bucky's proposal (no it's not because I get to do poetic description... totally not because of that... *shifty eyes*) In all seriousness though, I love the atmosphere and the tone and they make me happy (does that sound corny? That's totally corny but whatever haha) I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it =D


	21. Small

I do.

Two words.

Two small words.

Two very, very small words.

And Steve had just said them.

Steve couldn’t believe it. The stress over the last two months – the worry over the centrepieces and the weather and the flowers, just all of it – had just evaporated the minute he put on his suit that morning.

And when he saw Bucky standing at the alter? Literally everything else had just melted away.

It was just Steve and the love of his life, standing hand to hand.

Bucky looked gorgeous – not that Bucky wasn’t gorgeous to begin with, but just kind of... glowed – and Steve couldn’t stop smiling. He was really glad that they had more than one person filming the ceremony, ‘cause the whole thing had been a blur and Steve didn’t know if he’d be able to remember a single word of it by the end of the night. The only thing he saw was Bucky, and it made Steve the happiest man on earth. After twenty years of friendship and ten years of relationship, they were finally here, tying the knot.

In the space of a breath, Steve felt the weight of the moment, and he almost fell to his knees. He couldn’t believe how incredibly lucky he was to be standing here, about to marry his best friend, the love of his life. Bucky had stood by him through everything, the good and the bad, been his entire world.

“And do you, James Buchanan Barnes, take Steven Grant Rogers to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Bucky’s brilliant, clear, gray-blue eyes were wet at the corners, and Steve could feel Bucky’s fingers twitch as they held hands between them. He looked so beautiful in his fitted suit, and Steve was so happy he was on the verge of tears.

“I do.”


	22. Slow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooooooooo life is hard and nothing is easy and I'M TRYING TO WRITE I PROMISE

“Just like we practiced, right Stevie?”

Steve inhaled and then exhaled, steeling himself to the task ahead. “Right. Just like we practiced.” He was staring down at his glossy black shoes, polished and fancy and gathering his courage. He was in Bucky’s arms – or was Bucky in his arms? – but it was a small consolation to his wildly beating heart.

Bucky chuckled, low and soft, and Steve was the only one close enough to hear it. “Hey,” he said, a soft finger lifting Steve’s chin until they were staring into each others' eyes. “Relax, alright?” Bucky said with a small smirk. “It’s just a dance.”

Steve smiled wryly. “Not ‘just a dance,’ Buck, it’s our First Dance; dunno if you noticed, but it’s kind of a big deal,” he said, nodding slightly to all the people around them. The lacquered dance floor of the reception hall was waxed, gleaming as it reflected the bright spotlights, making small beads of sweat gather on his brow and the curve of his back (he really, really hoped that he wasn't sweating through his undershirt because ew gross but also this was damn expensive suit and Steve was resolutely not going to ruin it).

“Still just a dance. It’ll be easy if you loosen up, Rogers. You’re going to hurt yourself if you keep stiffening up like this.” Bucky looked relaxed and easy, and absolutely stunning in his pressed three piece suit, and Steve was very much definitely going to enjoy removing it, piece by piece, at the end of the evening.

“I happen to know that you like it when I stiffen up for you.”

Bucky shook his head. “Really Steve? Really?”

Steve shrugged as he grinned. “Hey, you’re the one who married me.”

He was met with a look that said, ‘Don’t remind me,’ in return.

And then the music was starting and Steve’s body was locking up and-

“Hey.”

Bucky’s gentle voice cut through Steve’s mind, and he looked up to see his husband – _his husband_ \- with a soft, encouraging smile. “We got this.”

And Bucky was right. _We got this_ , Steve replied with the gleam in his eye.

It was a slow song – intentional because first of all slow dances were hella romantic, and second of all, it would make it easier for Steve to keep up. Steve placed one arm on Bucky’s shoulder, the other stretched out with his hand grasped gently in Bucky’s. He could feel Bucky’s large, warm hand placed at his shoulder, and the worry was dislodged from Steve’s mind.

All he could see was his husband’s smiling face, and it was enough. It was more than enough.

Bucky pushing gently, leading Steve into the first step, and not for the first time that day, everything else melted away.


End file.
